


watching me is like watching the fire take your eyes from you

by niffin



Series: foolish devouring things [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Acephobia, Blindfolds, Bondage, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Humiliation, M/M, Mind Rape, Rape, S3 spoilers, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Sims, Vaginal Sex, Violence, post ep 92, this is my first time posting for tma is the do not archive tag the same as dead dove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffin/pseuds/niffin
Summary: Jon always needs to know, as if knowledge will save him, change his fate. He thinks that's why he Sees when Elias comes inside him.-has anyone thought about how blindfolds could impair beholding powers?
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Series: foolish devouring things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600744
Comments: 24
Kudos: 164





	watching me is like watching the fire take your eyes from you

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags and archive warnings.  
> [tumblr link](https://niffin.tumblr.com/post/189514235418/watching-me-is-like-watching-the-fire-take-your)

"If you'll all give me and Jonathan a moment alone, I'm sure we have some things to discuss."

Jon watches them file out, these colleagues (maybe even friends) who he hasn't seen in so long, all of them rattled, furious. Outwitted. Unease surges through him as the door shuts and their footsteps fade, but no. Elias doesn't warrant his fear, and so he drowns it in rage instead, which he does thoroughly deserve. He whirls on Elias, too many recriminations, accusations, competing on his tongue. "So."

Elias leans on the front of his desk, long fingers lightly curled around the edge, a faint smile on his sharp, arrogant face. Jon does not consider himself a violent person but he wants to slap that smile off his face. The smile grows. "Come on, Jon, there's really no need for the scowl -"

"What do you **want**?" Naturally what actually comes out of his mouth is a question. He wonders if Elias will shrug this one off too, but he answers readily.

"Honestly? To offer some congratulations. You're doing much better than I expected." Oh. Jon blinks in surprise, the scowl dropping. Enough people have tried to kill him in the past weeks that a compliment throws him off balance. He pulls his hostility back up but it doesn't come as easily this time.

"Feels like all I've managed to do is…" Elias pushes off the desk towards him, and Jon takes a step back before arresting the motion. Elias killed Gertrude and Leitner, blackmailed Daisy and Basira, but he surely wouldn't hurt the creature he's molding Jon into. He finishes his sentence, heart pounding, as Elias halts in front of him. "Not die."

"And believe me, that is a remarkably rare skill." Elias' hand shoots out, drags Jon's burned hand closer to inspect it. Jon intends to yank it away, but doesn't. Looks at Elias looking at his burned hand, the raised striations on brown skin, the paler whorls where Jude Perry's fingerprints remain, and remembers how he couldn't help but witness his own torture with eyes wide open. Elias' undivided attention heightens something restless inside him, and he Knows Elias is watching his memory. Elias knows that he knows. The recursion unsettles him as much as the fact that he hasn't let go.

"Yes, that was a close call, wasn't it?" Elias is looking at his face now, far too close, expression severe. Jon tries to break his grip, and fails. The fear rekindles, lighting up his nerves and propelling everything into sharp focus.

Elias moves far too fast, grabbing and slamming him into the wall, arm twisted up behind his back. Jon is painfully present in this moment. The impact against the wall knocks all the air from his lungs. Minute cracks in the wood paneling varnish rub against his cheek and jaw. His shoulder blade creaks with the strain, his fingers going numb with interrupted blood flow. Elias presses warm against his back, his legs. Jon knows what's laying firm against his hip, what Elias' heated, quickening breath on his neck means. He wants to push away from the wall but it'd put more of them in contact and he can't. He can't let that happen. He gasps desperately, **"Why?"** He throws as much force behind it as he can, trembling with the effort as the static leaves his tongue.

At that Elias sighs, hips grinding slow against him. Jon makes a low tight sound in his throat. "Because it is your duty to observe and experience. Everything you chronicle in that mind of yours fuels you, and our master."

The anger sparks again at that and he seizes onto it, shoves his free hand against Elias' hip to no avail. "I never wanted that!" He's never wanted this, even with the very few people he loved enough to try for. Couldn't make himself want them. For so many reasons.

Elias works his hand into the curls at the nape of Jon's neck and tugs his head back to make eye contact. There's plain arousal on his face. "You chose this path in every way that matters. Despite what you think you wanted. Do you _really_ think this is any different?"

They stare at each other for a long moment. Elias seems to know the second Jon decides this really is different, and interrupts his attempt to stomp on his instep by yanking his arm up even higher, forcing Jon onto his toes. Fabric rustles behind him, and as he cranes his head to look, soft silk wraps around his eyes and throws him into darkness. This, more than anything else Elias has done, terrifies him.

"No - _Elias_!" He thinks he can't breathe - he doesn't understand how that can be when all it really is is a blindfold. But matters have meanings on more than one level of reality now, and despite how he tries to convince himself otherwise he feels like he may be dying. In his paralyzing fear, he is only dimly aware of Elias removing Jon's own belt to cinch around his wrists, letting him slump back against his body.

"Jonathan, I fear for your safety if this is enough to incapacitate you." The irony manages to penetrate his bone deep horror, but Jon can't summon a laugh. "We belong to the Watcher, but there's more than one way to Know, and you need to learn them if you're to survive."

Elias half carries Jon, whose muscles won't cooperate, and pushes him onto his back on what Jon presumes is his desk. The edge of it cuts into his bound hands and the fresh pain grounds him just a bit, enough to realize Elias is between his legs and his shirt is being unbuttoned. He thinks about why he's only ever trusted one other person to do that. He hates how dazed he sounds when he says, "Elias, wait -"

"I knew about this the day you signed your employment contract." He runs a fingertip over Jon's chest, tracing his top surgery scars, and Jon shudders in shock. "It changes nothing; you have been, and will remain, my Archivist. I do want this to be instructive, but honestly, Jon? I've simply decided not to wait any longer for what I want."

Jon tries to Know, he really does. But his disoriented mind sifts out individual sensations to focus on, analyze, and won't assemble them into a coherent whole. Elias mouths at the bruises on his neck, scorching breath and wet tongue. Teeth sink into the tender skin over Jon's collarbone and he wonders if they're leaving marks on the bone itself. Ruthless hands roam over his heaving chest, and when their nails scrape over his scars and ribs they leave trails of prickling fire. His tears dampen the silk over his eyes, making it itch against his cheekbones and nose.

"You're avoiding this, Archivist." Elias' voice comes from right beside his ear and Jon's hearing suddenly slots back into place. He's been whimpering, tiny stifled sobs and heaving gasps. He turns his head away, stuttering choked denials. How could he be avoiding anything when he can't escape?

A sigh. Then Elias tugs Jon's trousers down, kisses him hard, and drowns him in… himself, all at once. So that's what arousal feels like, for Elias anyway. Liquid heat pours into him from where their bodies are pressed together but it's dizzying to simultaneously be in his cold numb bones and Elias' flesh, both of them aching, and he can't tell where his skin ends and Elias' begins.

Elias recedes, but witnessing the totality of him bleeds any remaining energy from Jon. There's nothing now but darkness, blistering physical awareness of his wholly exposed body, and something he's sure Elias left behind - an unfamiliar discomfort pooled low in his gut, between his legs. He whines and arches his back, unsure how to assuage the feeling.

Elias takes advantage to slide his hands under Jon's back and drag him closer. His fabric-covered erection bangs into Jon at the precise spot that sends that feeling bursting through his body. Jon moans. Realizes what he's feeling.

"I've rarely seen anyone quite so determined to ignore the things he doesn't want to acknowledge about himself." Elias shifts against him, keeping the flare of pleasure from dying, and leans down to gently brush Jon's sweat dampened hair off his forehead. "Don't forget - I want to make this edifying for you."

Jon shakes his head, eyes wide and uselessly straining behind the blindfold. "Don't. Something else, not this. Please -"

A kiss where the tears drip off his jaw. One hand pushes his legs open. The other trails fingertips up the inside of his thigh.

"No, don't touch - it's not right - Elias!"

He presses his thumb against Jon's cock and Jon jolts upward. There might have been a thrill there if it wasn't too much, too wrong. It strokes again and tears a despairing cry from Jon. No one hears it except for him, Elias, and the Ceaseless Watcher. If he can't stop them from witnessing him suffer then at least -

**Don't make me like it.**

Elias inhales sharply and his hands clench tight. "Oh. That was perfect, Jonathan. My magnificent Archivist -"

Then he shoves into Jon's cunt. It's slow going - Jon wasn't even close to being wet with that meager foreplay (he hates that word but he liked it, so it applies, doesn't it). There's just Elias' cock filling him far past his breaking point, ripping him apart, then withdrawing and taking pieces of him with it. And again. Elias croons praise as he fucks Jon, but it doesn't begin to make up for the contamination his hands and mouth leave on Jon's body, inside it. He counts time by his shaking sobs, wavering cries. He is so very aware of all of it happening, all over, and again.

Elias kisses his temple, tells him he's close, punctuates it with a particularly cruel thrust. Jon finally remembers what the biological goal of sex is and a vise closes around his heart. Surely he's safe - he'd had surgery, but - Jon arches, pushing against Elias, hands wrenching futilely in their bindings, moaning _please. Don't_. It just makes Elias wrap Jon in his arms as he gently says, "No."

Jon always needs to know, as if knowledge will save him, change his fate. He thinks that's why he Sees when Elias comes inside him. It feels like something opens and implacable light pours in, stupefying him before it slams shut again. He sees Elias bent over him, predatory bliss evident in every line of his body. He sees himself, face a mask of anguish, legs spread obscenely. He sees their laboring bodies frozen in this moment of Elias' triumph, the Watcher's sacrifice accepted. He does not watch it dispassionately. He's never been able to be dispassionate, whatever he might pretend. He is consumed with horror and shame and despair and that is as much a sacrifice to the Eye as his body. Then it ends. Jon is merely himself now. Broken. Defiled.

Elias sighs, long and satisfied. He pulls out and Jon feels a sickening warmth slick down to drip on the desk. Elias slips his hands under Jon, unconcerned with touching his own spend, to carry him to Elias' chair. Jon's too weak not to lean against Elias as they settle in, but he manages to summon a spark of spiteful joy for the mess he's surely leaving on Elias' fine tailored suit.

Elias releases Jon's wrists. Then, finally, with his hand cupping Jon's face, he unknots the tear soaked blindfold. They look at each other. The restoration of his vision revives Jon just enough to grind out, "I _hate_ you."

Elias smiles. "I adore you. My sublime Archivist. Next time," and he pulls Jon's head to rest on his shoulder. "I do hope you'll allow yourself to enjoy it."

Jon can't bear to think about it. He lets Elias caress his spine. He shuts his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [RAINN for 24/7 sexual assault hotline/live chat](https://www.rainn.org/)  
> [Trans Lifeline](https://www.translifeline.org/)  
> [Trevor Project 24/7 hotline/live chat for LGBTQ individuals](https://www.thetrevorproject.org/)


End file.
